


The Sight

by thewhitelady (Sileas)



Category: Outlander & Related Fandoms, Outlander (TV), Outlander Series - Diana Gabaldon
Genre: Book 2: Dragonfly in Amber, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-29
Updated: 2017-12-28
Packaged: 2019-02-23 09:04:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,404
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13186836
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sileas/pseuds/thewhitelady
Summary: Claire discovers how thin the veil is between dreams and reality.





	1. 1

The basic medicinal smell of a hospital had long been a familiar comfort to Claire.

It was a signal that she was in the environment she knew best, that she was in the only home she had ever really known in her adult life. But now, as she lay staring at the ceiling of a private room in the psychiatric ward of Culduthel Hospital in Inverness, the combination of chemical antiseptic and sick people left her more nauseated than the baby in her womb. After years of living in the 1740’s, the smells of the 20th Century were revoltingly alien to her.

She had been gone from there for a little over a month, having travelled back to the future through the standing stones at Craigh na Dun, leaving behind everyone and everything she loved, sacrificing it all for the sake of her unborn child.

Jamie’s child.

The mere thought of him brought tears to her eyes and she clenched her jaw tight to keep them from spilling over. He was dead. Whether he died in battle on Culloden moor or not, he was dead in her time and she would never see him again. Her sadness immediately turned to anger over her present situation. She was angry with Jamie for telling her to go back to her own time and angry at herself for actually doing it. The one time she actually obeyed his orders without argument would be her life’s greatest regret.

She had told the truth about her experiences using ancient druid standing stones to travel through time, but was dismissed as hysterical. The assumption was made that she had run away from her husband Frank for another man, who left her pregnant and alone in the Scottish countryside. They kept telling her it was the exposure to the elements, combined with the stress of being pregnant that resulted in the elaborate story she concocted.

Frank had all but written her off as delusional. He still came to see her every day, convinced that she would suddenly come to her senses and admit that she had made the whole thing up as a way of evading responsibility for her adultery. She stuck by her story though, in spite of his anger and resentment. In spite of the fact that he refused to let her be anything less than his once-perfect trophy wife.

Claire closed her eyes tight against the heartbreak, both hands cradling the life still growing inside of her. She inhaled deeply, vividly recalling Jamie’s particular scent. There was something about his own natural smell that made a mixture of smoke, horses, sweat and whisky particularly appealing. The only thing more desireable was the taste of it on his skin. It was though she could smell him now, as though he lay next to her.

The door swung open with a bang and Clare was ripped from her reminiscing to see a woman come through dressed in a nurse’s uniform. It wasn’t the usual night nurse and she looked at her curiously for a moment. There was familiarity in the woman’s slightly asymmetrical face. With long black hair, streaked with white, she looked older than the years behind her eyes. The woman floated through the room, lightly touching the edge of the blanket covering Claire’s feet before moving on.

“Are you the nurse?” Claire asked bluntly, still trying to place - what time - she recognized this woman from.

“Ye know what I am, my lady,” the woman replied in a soft Highland voice.

Claire sat up straight in bed, pulling the blankets to her chest as she eyed the woman uneasily. “Why do you call me that?”

“This house has been in yer family for hundreds of years. How do you know of it?”

“What? The hospital? What do you mean?”

“The one ye married into that is,” the woman continued, again ignoring Claire’s inquiries. “The Fraser of Culduthel is a most particular friend of his lordship.”

Suddenly, Claire’s mind filled with a vision of a blustery afternoon, sleet hitting her skin like slivers of glass, and a woman standing tall and relaxed next to the tomb of Thomas Fraser, Jamie’s great-grandfather. It was old Simon Fraser’s seer, Maisri, of course. But the realization of who the woman was did nothing to piece together the why.

“How are you here?” she asked, “Did you come through the stones? I don’t understand.”

“Stones? Whatever do ye mean?” Maisri was now looking out the window at the landscape below, her blank face showing only the slightest hint of wonderment at the view. “Ye have a strange mind. Is this how ye see yer visions?”

“A strange mind?” Claire could only repeat the words back, too confused to understand the meaning behind them.

“Ye’ll know what’s to do now. It’s time to wake up, my lady.”

Claire frantically looked around the hospital room for some sort of sign that might make it clear where she truly was. She was absolutely positive everything was real. She could recall the feeling of travelling back through the stones again, could feel the baby inside of her tumbling in the same familiar way she’d felt Faith, knew she had seen Frank - heard him speak, felt him next to her - an entire month of her life with hot showers and good coffee and she felt every moment of it. Now though, she wasn’t so sure.


	2. 2

Maisri suddenly moved back toward the bed and grabbed Claire tightly around her bicep, giving her a quick shake. She opened her mouth to speak and instead of an airy, dreamlike lilt, Claire instead heard the deep Scottish brogue of her husband.

_“Sassenach! Wake up!”_

Her eyes flew open and she found herself staring directly into Jamie’s steely blue gaze, barely an inch away from her face. He let out a sigh of relief and helped her sit up before reluctantly letting go of his tight grip on her arm.

“Are ye alright, lass? I’ve been trying to wake ye. Ye were calling out.”

Once again, Claire found herself taking stock of her surroundings. They were in one of the guest rooms at Beauly, home of Jamie’s grandfather and of Maisri the seer. Heavy tapestries hung on the walls, images of Renaissance lords and ladies barely visible in the dim light from the fireplace. She felt like she had been gone for ages, but the room looked exactly the same as the last time she could recall it.

“Pinch me.”

Jamie looked at her skeptically, but he had learned through their marriage to just accept whatever random request she made. Through the gauzy fabric of her shift he swiftly grabbed an inch of flesh on her thigh between thumb and index finger. The subsequent pain was the jolt of reality she needed.

“Were ye dreaming, _mo nighean donn_?”

“Not a dream,” she said with a soft shake of her head. Brushing back her unruly curls, she continued to process what had just happened. “Jamie, I think…I think I had a vision.”

“I saw the future. Not the future I already knew, but something different. Something new. Do you know of a place called Culduthel?”

“Aye,” Jamie nodded. “Donald Fraser’s estate. He’s one of my grandsire’s tacksmen.”

“Have I ever been there?”

In her dream, Frank had looked at her as though she were a delusional liar when she spoke. In this reality, Jamie looked at her with a hint of amusement, having merely grown accustomed to his wife’s occasional tangents.

“No, but Young Simon spoke of him earlier. At dinner. I dinna understand…”

She had promised Jamie long ago that although there was room for secrets in their marriage, there was no room for lies. In that moment she chose to keep secret the details of what she had seen in her vision until she had more information. She knew what being back in her own time meant - that Jamie was dead. Knowing his own demise was imminent and her possibly carrying his child once more, was something she wasn’t sure how to deal with.

“Neither do I. Not yet.”

In that secret was the lie she swore she’d never tell. She did know something. She knew without a shadow of a doubt that no matter what he asked of her in the months to come, there was no way she would ever step foot back on the slopes of _Craigh na Dun_.


End file.
